Any Other Way
by AnotherAuthoressAnonymous
Summary: What if Psych had begun a little differently? Alright. Very differently. How would that have changed the entire show? AU one-shot


Head Detective Shawn Spencer of the SBPD rubbed his aching temples between his thumb and forefinger. It had been another long day, full of minor but aggravating cases. It didn't usually take him longer than an interview with the victim and/or suspect, maybe a trip to the crime scene for him to solve the case. It was the paperwork he dreaded. The endless piles of paperwork he desperately wished he could push off on his Junior Detective, Carlton Lassiter.

Usually he would, but today, Lassiter had been out on a solo mission. He had gone deep undercover as a waiter at some ritzy restaurant. Spencer wished he could have gone himself. He enjoyed undercover ops. They were something unusual, and he had a knack for acting. Unfortunately, Chief Guster had been on the overbearing side the last couple weeks, demanding that Spencer be at his every beck and call. Spencer suspected (knew) it was because the expecting father was nervous. His wife Rachel was due to deliver their first child a week ago.

"Detective," Chief Guster bellowed, "my office. Now."

"Yes, sir," Spencer sighed, shoving back from his desk and making his way to the windowed office. The blinds were all down, but the doors were wide open, giving sight to the agitated Chief of Police pacing the floor behind the desk.

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Spencer asked respectfully.

"Oh, what made you think so?" Guster snapped, "I called you didn't I?"

"Yes, sir, I just…" Spencer began, but a raised hand cut him off.

"Save it, Spencer. I need you to go down to the interrogation room and interview a suspect. She's been giving us anonymous tips for months, and now we have reason to believe she may have been involved in all the cases she helped us solve." Chief Guster thrusted the suspect's profile at Spencer. "Go deal with it."

"Yes, sir," Spencer said, giving a respectful, slight bow of his head. He turned sharply and made a face. It was a joy to work under Guster.

Spencer skimmed over the file as he walked leisurely down to the interrogation room. If he had learned anything, it was that nervous suspects were more likely to crack, and what made a suspect more nervous than not knowing when the interrogator was going to suddenly show up?

"Juliet O'Hara," Spencer said, coming into the room, "my name is Shawn Spencer, Head Detective of the SBPD." He did not look up from her file even as he sat down across from the suspect.

"Look, this is all a big mistake," the young woman cried indignantly, "I had nothing to do with those crimes. I was _helping_ the police department, okay?"

"Yeah, okay," Spencer agreed sarcastically. He looked up at the suspect for the first time. The wide-eyed blond that stared back at him made his heart turn a summersault. He nearly choked on his next words, "why—why don't you just explain how you _helped _us, _Miss_ O'Hara."

"I just see things, you know?" the beauty rambled, "I am watching the news, and I just _see_ things that nobody else seems to notice even though they're _right there_!"

"You _see_ things? Like what?"

The suspect threw her hands up as best she could with them cuffed. "I can't explain it, I just do, okay?"

"Like a psychic?" Spencer chuckled at his own ridiculous suggestion.

The woman's eyes lit. "Yes! I'm Psychic! Exactly."

Spencer frowned. "Miss O'Hara, may I remind that you are being charged with a serious crime. I suggest you not dig yourself a deeper grave."

"But I am psychic," O'Hara insisted quickly—too quickly in Spencer's opinion. She put the tips of her fingers to her head. "I'm getting something…you've been writing. Writing, writing, writing. Paperwork, so much paperwork. And no one to help you."

Spencer glanced down at his hands, dotted with ink. Obviously, he had been writing, and by the number of blotches on his hands, he'd been writing a lot. As for the doing it alone…that was just a lucky guess.

"That's good," he said in an unimpressed tone. "_How do you do it_?"

O'Hara furrowed her brow. "You don't believe me?"

"Of course I don't believe you!" cried Spencer irritably. He scooped up her file. "I'll be back." He walked out of the interrogation room briskly, letting the door slam thunderously. Slipping into the observation wing, he nudged the cop on duty. "What do you think, Buzz?"

"I don't know, sir," the young officer answered honestly.

Spencer did not expect even that much. He watched the woman, who was glancing around the interrogation room thoughtfully. "She doesn't seem like a criminal."

"No, sir?"

Spencer shrugged. "She could just be good at observation."

"Or she could really be a psychic," said Buzz.

"Yeah," Spencer snorted. "And Chief Guster is going to give me that raise I asked for last month."

"He is?"

"No!" Spencer sighed. His headache was coming back. Oh, how he wished Lassiter were here to take all the numskulls while he did some real police work. "Take her to a holding cell. I'm going to go finish some paperwork and then me and Miss O'Hara will have another heart to heart to see if she changes her mind."

"Yes, sir," Buzz said.

Spencer clapped the officer on the shoulder. "Good man."

Chief Guster was waiting for him at his desk. "So? What happened?"

"I think she's innocent, personally," Spencer said.

"And professionally?" Guster asked.

"I'm going to ask her a few more questions after she's had a couple hours to think about it in a holding cell," Spencer replied.

"Okay, then." Guster seemed relaxed. "I just got a call from my wife. Her mom's taking her to the hospital, so I need to go. You're in charge."

"Yes, sir," said Spencer, noting the calm before the storm that seemed to be brewing. Chief Guster might be relieved that the time had _finally_ come; however, the panic would come. The panic _would_ come.

Spencer sat down at his desk and put the O'Hara file aside before pulling up the paperwork he had been working on. He did not intend to finish it all today. In fact, he hoped to save a portion of it for Lassiter when he got back. It was one of the many downsides to being the Junior Detective: dirty work.

Spencer chuckled. He was right where he wanted to be. In spite of having an overbearing boss, an exhausting workload, infuriating suspects, and a Junior Detective that wasn't always where he wanted him to be…Spencer had it good.

He couldn't imagine it any other way.


End file.
